Locked
by RealRedGold
Summary: During a second trip to Salzburg, Lee and Amanda explore their recent past. Set in early Season Four.


Disclaimer: These characters belong to Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon. The story is my own, and I wrote it only for entertainment and for the pleasure of Lee and Amanda's company in fiction. I hope that you enjoy it!

Lee and Amanda stroll across the pedestrian bridge. It is evening, and there is no rush. They've finished their work, and they've finished their dinner, and now they have unclaimed hours together. His hand drifts onto the small of her back in an unconscious, familiar gesture; she can feel his warmth even through her light sweater. She slips her arm around his waist and slows her pace to match his. Having talked all through dinner, they are comfortably silent now.

Amanda thinks that Lee seems a little preoccupied, and she leaves him to his private thoughts. Her attention is caught by something metallic that's dangling from the waist-high, chain-link fencing of the bridge, and she looks more carefully. It's a small blue padlock clipped to the wire. Higher up, she notices another one, silver this time. Her eyes scan the bridge ahead of them; the locks blink in the golden last light, hundreds of them, all colors and sizes, creating a haphazard, glittering maze on the side of the bridge.

"Lee, what in the world?" She turns to him with her question. His face looks thoughtful, mouth turned slightly down. The breeze ruffles his hair and tugs at the collar of his blue shirt.

"They're locks," he says slowly, as if that explains everything. His voice sounds distant. He stops and turns toward the fencing, letting his hand fall from her back and rest on the bridge railing instead. The Salzach River, slate grey from the mountains' snowmelt, races below the bridge, and the churches, houses, and shops of Salzburg recede a bit as the light thins.

"Well, I see that, but why…" She crouches down to examine the locks. Some of them are plain and unadorned, but most, she realizes, have names written on them. Two names. Over and over, two names. But each lock has a different pairing- "Hugo und Katrin," "Franz und Sasha," "Peter and Susan," "Chris + Simon." 'How sweet,' she thinks. 'The locks commemorate people's love for each other.' She notices a red lock, medium-sized, up high near the railing. Its names are written in black, and there's something familiar about the blocky, back-slanting printing. She takes the lock in her hand, its metal cool now that the sun is setting, and turns it to get a better look. 'Amanda and Lee,' she reads to herself.

"Lee?" she says gently. He's still facing the river rather than her. She touches his forearm lightly.

"I thought you'd find it if I stopped here. You're always very observant—too observant sometimes. I used a Sharpie. You can write on snow with a Sharpie. Indelible."

"When did you put this here, sweetheart?"

He sighs, just a wisp of breath. His shoulders are hunched, as if he's feeling the cold. "When Joe came back. I was sent here for five days, right after his name was cleared, remember?" She nods and waits, knowing that there's more he wants to say to her. "It just killed me to see you and him together, looking so comfortable, all that shared history between you. And the boys, of course." He pauses and then rushes onward, his voice tight. "I was so afraid that I'd lost you, that I'd lost you to him before we were ever really together. And it would be my fault because I'd waited so long. I was scared of my feelings for you, but when Joe came back, I knew what fear really was." He says this last sentence so quietly that she has to strain to hear it. His hazel eyes look green as glass, narrowed with pain and regret. "What a blockhead. Wasting so much time."

"Lee, listen to me." She pulls him lightly around so that he's facing her and lays one hand gently along the side his face, thumb skimming his cheekbone. She can feel the tension in his skin. His eyes are half-closed, hard to read. The hair at the back of his head is soft, and she tightens her fingers to make closer contact with him. The other hand rests open on his chest. "That time wasn't wasted. We both needed it. I needed it to gather up the shreds of my courage, and you needed it to-" she searches for a fitting word, "ripen."

She knows that she has picked the right word when he barks a quick, surprised laugh. "Ripen—you make me sound like a peach!" She's relieved to see him relax and straighten his shoulders.

"Well, you are a peach, Stetson." She drops her hands and waits for his shy smile, feeling a wash of happiness when it comes. "What did you do with the key?"

"Threw it in the river. I figured that if you chose him, I still wanted someone to know that I loved you. Passing strangers were better than nobody. I needed to—I don't know—take a stand."

Amanda draws in a deep breath, feeling tears prickling in her eyes. "And you put my name first."

"Well, I'd been putting myself first since I met you. I figured it was time to change that." His voice is low and a little rough. He's standing close to her now, blocking most of the cool evening breeze.

She plunks her purse down on the railing near the lock and begins rummaging around in it, the muted light making the search difficult.

"Amanda, I hope you're not looking for your picklocks."

She chuckles at that. "You're not the only one who carries Sharpies, my friend. Do you mind if I add something?" When he shakes his head in reply, she writes a few words under their names with her black marker and steps back.

He cradles the lock in his palm and peers at it. "'Für immer zusammen.'" She holds her breath for his next words. "'Together always.' You've been listening to those German tapes again, haven't you, hunh?" He sounds teasing, confidential, loving.

"Well, you never know when a second language will come in handy. What do you say we head back to the hotel now, Schatz? It's getting chilly out here."

He nods, tilts his head when she tucks her face against his neck and shoulder, and draws her closer to him. "You know, Amanda," he says, smiling down at her, "I think Salzburg is my favorite city. How about you?"


End file.
